Please Don't Go
by drunkwithgrief
Summary: The voice contestant gets in a sticky situation with her coach.


It was one of those parties were you have to be, you want to be, but you cant just be. Maybe its because of the unreasonable amount of alcohol you've consumed or this guy who has been trying to chat you up even when you've clearly said you have a boyfriend but you feel the sudden urge to find a room and hurl yourself in a soft bed and shutting out the sucky music blaring through the speakers.

You vaguely wonder where your friends are as the guy tries to give you another drink. You clumsily wave it off but instead hit his wrist and the liquid spills on his jeans. Oops. Let's hope no reporter catches that. You apologize profusely, he seems pissed. Great, maybe then he'll leave. But before he can get a word in, someone catches your wrist and you swing to the side, almost toppling over the wet grass. Another hand is on your shoulder keeping you up. Laughter. You look up and Ashley's face is flushed but she was giggling. You aren't the only one having too much fun with the open bar. Come on, she says in between laughter, tugging at your arm. You turn to your companion but he's grumbling under his breath as he tries to get the stain out. Screw him. You let Ashley pull you inside the house which wasn't a good idea because the walls start spinning as you trudged behind the hyper girl.

The music becomes louder as you concentrated on moving your feet properly and the crowd grew thicker. You could barely see a thing. Ashley finally stops decapitating your arm but doesn't let go of your hand. You lean on your knee and someone's thigh crashes onto your side. Before you can even look up and glare at whoever it was, Ashley grabs your other hand and starts moving both your arms up down up as she jumps with the music. You laugh and go with it until she spins you once then twice. She lets go of your hand and you remember you don't have control over your feet but it's too late because you crash into someone and end up with both elbows on the cold floor and your face planted on it.

You move your head but the pain on your cheek and the migraine you're concocting leaves you contemplating staying on the floor forever, well until the pains wears off. Before you can even protest, a hand lifts your arm and your face hits a shoulder. Ouch. The girl had the nerve to chuckle. You try to stand up but end up shifting your weight to the body supporting yours. You both almost topple over but she manages to adjust her feet and you find yourself with your face crushed into her chest. You're too pissed to even be embarrassed. Damn it, Ashley, if you drop me I swear I'd hide all your fucking stilhettos you say under your breath. You're probably even speaking to her breasts. You feel her lips on your ear as she asks, That scares her? The hair behind your neck rises as you open your eyes and let go of the vice grip you had been having around your coach.

You sway backwards and the mess of your feet almost gets you flat on your back. But it didn't. You would've been grateful for the hands gripping tightly around your waist if they were someone else's. Still you don't pull away and instead concentrated on keeping your feet planted firmly on the seemingly flimsy ground you're threading right now, too aware of the fact that there's an just an inch of separation between your bodies that you can feel her breath on your neck. I'm so sorry, you say whilst looking at the ground and holding your head in embarrassment. Cursing yourself for drinking too much. Because right now, your senses are heightened despite the blaring music and you can tell she smelled of lilacs and vodka. The only thing keeping you from crawling your way away from her is the fact that there's barely any luminescence in the room because you're sure your face is beet red. It happens she says with a seemingly amused tone. At least she's not pissed at me, you thought. A few seconds of silence passed until she asks Can you walk now? You couldn't but stuttered a yes anyways because you just have to get away from her even if it meant crawling. She probably didn't believe you but loosened her grip anyways. You didn't sway, thank God. You pray the same luck with walking. You move your feet and took few steps before you realize she hadn't let go of your waist and was guiding you through the crowd. You didn't know where to go much less how to get there so you let her. You were out of the crowded dance floor when you realize that the light was getting brighter. But before you could even make a lame excuse and make a run for it, she opens a door and lets you in a bright lit room.

There's a couch on the middle of the room and she sits you there. You look at her for the first time and saw that she's wearing a black dress that hugged her curves and her platinum blonde hair was let down in cascading waves. Even here, she looked like a Preston doll. She was looking for something her phone maybe. She turns to you and her brows knit together. You feel conscious under her gaze, but then again when weren't you? She looks at you expectantly and you realize she had just asked a question. What? You ask in a foreign voice. Does it hurt? She asks with a frown. You look at her confused. She lifts her hand and grazes her thumb below your right cheek and towards your lip. You flinch, because of the pain or the mere touch, either way you need to get out of there. She thinks the latter and proceeds on muttering about getting some ice for it. You watch as she disappears into an adjacent room. You close your eyes and lean on the couch, feeling the migraine pounding in full force. When you open them, she's sitting beside you with an intent look but she quickly averts it. She lifts her hand and says something about pain. You touch your lip hoping the cold compress isn't necessary but you couldn't stop yourself from flinching, again. It stung. You look as her hand gently lifts the compress, you should have just taken it and done it yourself. But there was something in her eyes that made you sit still and let her have her way with you. No pun intended. Besides, you owe her that much. She brushes a strand of your hair and tucks it behind your ear. You had goose bumps on the back of your neck for the second time tonight. Her eyes were too intense for your liking. You've heard the rumors but didn't believe them because they were just that. Rumors, right? Or was it because you were afraid it was actually true? An eternity of a second has passed with you looking at her eyes. You don't even feel the ice on your chapped lip or the vibrating of your phone in your pocket because all you can think about is the close proximity of her lips to yours and the way she's looking at them. A misbehaving strand falls onto your eyes and you lift your hand to push it away but you feel her fingers instead as she tucks them gently behind your ear. Her eyes trailed upwards and you weren't fast enough to avoid her gaze, not this time. She hasn't pulled her hand away and you realize yours are holding them in place.

She seems to realize this too because the cold compress drops from her hand onto your lap, she lifts your chin with it and leans in kissing your lips, chastely, avoiding the bruised part. She pulls back, her eyes closed. She licks her lips and you lost it. You crash your lips together, she seems surprised but didn't break the contact. You feel her kiss you back with much force this time and your lip stings like hell but you're kissing her back with just as much force. She tastes like vodka and chocolate. Your fingers are tangled in her hair while hers are gripping the sides of your face. You break apart panting but she still she pulls you in. You feel her body move, pulling you on top of her, you eagerly let her. You've been doing that a lot tonight so might as well do it some intoxicated by her scent as you snuggled the crook of her neck and lightly sucked at it. She lets out a moan and it surprised you that you stop to look at her. Her slightly opened mouth just urged you to do it again and again, until the spot starts bruising. At least now they're both bruised. She roughly pulls your hair when you go too far and bit at the reddening skin. She pulls your face to her mouth and exacts her revenge. She kisses you slowly and you melt into her lips. Your lips danced in rhythm until she nips at your lower lip right on the cut. You squirm and break the kiss but she uses your surprised reaction to her advantage and flips your position, sending you roughly pushed back onto the couch and her legs straddling your waist.

She then proceeds on sucking your lower lip aggressively cupping your face in place until you push her away and she chuckles humorlessly at your glare. You touch the cut that's beginning to swell but she grabs your hands and pins them above your head and starts trailing kisses on your neck. You feel dirty moaning at every contact but you couldn't help yourself. Christina Aguillera was on top of you in a compromising position and that thought was all the justification you needed to be this turned on. She nibbles at your ear, her other hand running its fingers through your hair. Her body's pressed on to you and you can feel her chest rise up and down in ragged rhythm. You try to move your hand, desperate for contact but she tightens her hold on them and whispers, you have no idea how long I've wanted this and your stomach flutters, you feel yourself burning up. You move your head and she takes the hint and kisses you. You yank your hands free and grip her closer to you, touching every inch of her torso, she doesn't seem to mind. She starts trailing kisses down your neck when you realize her hands are clumsily trying to unbutton your blouse.

You tense up, you couldn't help it. She seems to have noticed and looks at you with an indescribable look in her face, it reminds you of when you told her you wanted to switch songs and she reluctantly agreed. That's when it hit you. What you are about to do. What you shouldn't even be doing. You try to say something coherent but the alcohol is still in your veins. You were never good with words so you let your actions speak. But something tells you wouldn't be able to say the words without them sounding like what they are, lies. She pushes another strand of hair in your face and goes in for another kiss. You turn your head at the last moment deciding you can't go through with this. Not even when you're drunk, especially when you're both drunk. Lindsey, she says. You do not look at her, you can't trust your eyes, much less what hers does to you. She gently touches your cheek, turning your face to hers, you look down. It was childish but your way past pretending you know what you're doing. She lifts your chin firmly but with gentleness and says look at me with a soft voice you've never heard her use before. Your curiosity made you look. Her eyes were sad mingled with joy and a hint of hope and desperation. It was unsettling to see her like this. You have seen your coach emotional but even then she was poised with undeniable strength but this, this vulnerability, was foreign to you. It makes your knees weak and your chest clench. You don't even realize you're crying, until she wipes a tear on your cheek with her thumb. You hear the words, I can't, before you realize you uttered them. And you mean them. Because, it's true what they say, that when you realize how beautiful someone's life is, it makes it harder for you to ruin only problem now is willing yourself to leave.

You turn away from her, she leans back deflated. That's a start. You try to sit up. She reluctantly, lets you. You can do this. You try to stand up. Just a bit more and you're alright. You shuffle your feet and try to walk, you can feel her eyes on you. Don't look. You will yourself to walk towards the door. You wonder why she's too quiet. You make it past her when you feel her hand grabs yours and spin you around. She grabs your face and kisses you aggressively and all resolve was lost. Gone. You kiss her back and you feel your noses smash into each other's. She's cupping your face and running her fingers through your hair. She kisses you sweetly on the forehead, the cheek, the nose, never breaking eye contact, and you feel something wet on your cheek and realize that it was her tears. She even lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles. And her lips are back to yours, this time with raw urgency and desperation. You kiss her back until you realize you're leaning in to cold air and the door has opened and closed with a sharp click.


End file.
